For a car that was derided in its day as slow, noisy and underpowered, the VW Beetle survived more assassination attempts than Fidel Castro. In its quarter century plus in the U.S., the humble Beetle saw off competitors from just about every major car producer,representing a panoply of concepts, formulas and gimmicks, all designed to steal market share from a car that was obsolete almost at its postwar launch. By the latter half of the 1960’s, the brass at British Motor Corporation decided that they too would have one more go at dethroning the king of the import market in the U.S. But the car that they dispatched to the former colonies to put a torpedo in the Bug was shown to be a feeble assassin, with far too many flaws in its own design to change the order of things in the U.S. That car was the Austin America.

If the management at BMC (later British Leyland) had a time machine, they almost certainly would have used it in 1978 to bring the Austin America into the market a decade after it first appeared on these shores. By then, BL could have fully developed the clever concepts that might have made the America a runaway success. But at its introduction in 1968, the technologies that were incorporated into the car were still too immature in their development to guarantee a dependable, high quality car at a reasonable price. As we will see, the little Austin was just about a half decade ahead of the state of refinement needed to make it a milestone car.

For all of the faults that it later revealed, the Austin America was not corrupted by birth. The car’s DNA was passed down from a legitimate automotive icon that had first appeared in the UK ten years prior. The 1960 Mini was designer Alec Issigonis’ masterpiece and had revolutionized the car industry in its home country and the rest of the world where it had been offered. The Mini had introduced a mass market to transverse engine,front wheel drive motoring and clever space utilization while keeping its price at an affordable, competitive $1300 or so.

But the Mini was a car that could never be more than a niche product in the states. The sub one litre powerplant at launch and 10 foot length meant that it was poorly adapted to long distance, high speed highway travels on our side of the Atlantic.

Later, BMC stretched and pulled the Mini like taffy to concoct the Morris (MG) 1100 and that car became a best seller in commonwealth markets around the world. It was sold in the U.S. as the MG 1100 (and in 1964/65 as the Vanden Plas Princess) and did unspectacular business. Clearly, the formula had legs in the empire, but how to grab a bigger piece of the pie in North America?

By 1967 BMC thought that they had the answer.The 1100 would get an image and mechanical makeover that might just put some wind in the aging model’s sails.The scheme involved combining two attributes that American buyers absolutely had to have in those days: Automatic shifting and a soft, boulevard ride. But it was by trying to satisfy those desires that BMC went a bridge too far for their engineering capabilities given the technology of the time.

To deal with the first issue, the automatic transmission that would drive the America was to be a different engineering approach that broke just enough new ground to become an early adopters regret. The four speed,torque converter autobox that was adopted sat directly beneath the engine and shared that units lubrication. This was a risky arrangement given Americans aversion to checking or maintaining engine oil while the car appears to be running smoothly. This would turn out to be the major factor in the destruction of this car’s reputation. The oil level was specified as critical in owners manuals and factory sales training, but for Yank drivers that rarely looked under the hood, the arrangement was a grenade rigged to explode when they neglected to be vigilant.

British Leyland (the company had changed its name officially in 1968 just after the America was in production) also thought that their engineers had solved the suspension issue that turned many American car buyers away from the stiffer, more responsive European ride that was a staple of British cars.

Designer Alex Molton had dreamed up a system that used what was essentially water and alcohol passing through springs and bladders to cushion the ride of the 1100. It was dubbed the Hydrolastic suspension and while innovative and clever, it was subject to the same real world shortcomings as other infant technologies. The system required de-pressurization whenever suspension or chassis work was performed. This required a special tool that could only be found at BL dealers.Further, a car that lost pressure would settle on its haunches or list alarmingly to one side until the problem was addressed, thus rendering the unit undrivable. This caused lots of bad will between owners and dealers when the units began to give way after just a couple of years of hard use.

The engine installed in the America was probably the best part of the package. The 1275 CC OHV powerplant had been used in half a dozen models in Europe and had proven itself bulletproof with anything like minimal care. The cars light weight (just under 1900 pounds) meant that the 58 HP mill could provide decent acceleration while returning mid 20’s fuel mileage. Brakes were the up to date front disc/rear drum arrangement that was becoming de rigueur for all modern cars. The east-west engine orientation meant that the car was a marvel of space efficiency (just like its little brother) and auto journalists of the day gave the car a warm endorsement.

It was this package that BL brought to market as the 1100’s successor in March of 1968. The company priced the America at a competitive $1815 for the stripper model. That setup included a four speed manual transmission and not a lot else (even an AM radio was optional) while a much better equipped car with the automatic cost just $80 more. This made the car just a few dollars higher than the base Beetle’s $1799 MSRP. Buyers could choose from half a dozen attractive colors.

The marketing was another innovative BL feature. The Austin was pitched in North America not as a family flagship, but as a second car for growing numbers of two job, dual income, suburban wage slaves. This was a strategy that held much promise as postwar baby boomer women were taking jobs away from home, thus making a two car family more and more necessary.

But several factors combined to make the Austin America a short lived wonder in the U.S. Some were product related, while others were more of a problem of mass acceptance of a new idea.

The product flaws were centered on the engine bay of the America. The sharing of motor oil with the automatic transmission meant that keeping abreast of the lubricant level was critical to ensuring that both remained healthy. That many American drivers failed to do this only became apparent after a few thousand were in everyday use. Failure of any seal on either the tranny or in the engine could be fatal to both and many Austin owners found this out the hard way. A transmission rebuild could easily cost $800 dollars when the car itself was only worth a little more. To be sure, some buyers opted for the four speed manual, which proved to be very durable and dependable. But the cars pricing strategy made the autobox look like a bargain, thus very few Americas were sold with the stir -your -own shifter. Also conspiring against the car were the usual British electrical bugs that never seem to have been sorted out, along with a dealer network that had yet to learn that service was a critical part of the ownership equation.

The other factor that sank the America was a little harder to quantify, but basically, Americans had yet to adopt a front engine/ front drive car as their preferred mode of transportation. It would take the Beetle’s successor, (the Rabbit), to confirm our latent desires for the “three box” format that became the industry norm.

As it was, the Austin America did manage to sell just under 60,000 units in its five model years on the market. In September of 1971, BL decided that the game was no longer worth the candle and discontinued the America. The cars unreliable reputation by then meant that the last few units were hard to move and many were sold below cost just to get them off dealers lots. Thus the Beetle saw off another threat to its reign as king of the import hill (for the moment).

Today, a functioning Austin America is a rare sight indeed. Most went to the scrapyard when their automatic transmissions failed and the dejected owner found that it would cost more to fix the car than replace it. With only a standard 12 month warranty, this meant that lots of these wound up junked with less than 50,000 miles on the clock.

Also, when BL packed up in the states , the special tools needed to keep the suspension in working order disappeared and this claimed many a car. Corrosion was also the ruin of many an America when exposed to road salt or extended outdoors storage. Owners have told me that buying an automatic is a sure way to die in poverty- they strongly recommend holding out for a manual version. Also, suspension issues can be expensive to fix, so that “low rider” America advertised for cheap might need costly repairs to be roadworthy.

Ironically, less than five years after the Austin America had been canceled in the U.S., most economy cars had taken its basic shape and mechanical layout. The Rabbit was followed quickly by Renault, Ford and even Chrysler in offering FWD hatchbacks that were inexpensive to drive. And just months after Austin decamped from the states, Honda would introduce its FWD Civic to near universal accolades.

If the America had come to market in the latter half of the 70’s, our story may have had a much happier ending for British Leyland. As it turned out, the America was just another speed bump on the road to irrelevancy.

54 Comments

In England of course the America( Austin 1100/1300) was anything but a turkey. It was No. 1 best seller for most of its’ life in spite of reliability problems ( the electric fuel pump was mounted under the rear of the car, exposed to the elements). My sister ran an auto for many years with no troubles to speak of – I remember servicing it once or twice. The problems for British Leyland came when they replaced the elegant Italian-styled 1100/1300 with the ugly-duckling, coil-sprung, Austin Allegro .

Actually, the Allegro had an updated version of Hydrolastic known as Hydragas, that used air instead of fluid as the suspension medium. A version went into the last MG sport car, the TF roadster, circa 2004, not to be confused with the MGTF of the mid 1950s.

Wouldn’t its bigger brother, the similarly-styled Austin 1800 “Land Crab” be better fit for export to the U.S.? Its bigger engine would cope better with America’s long, straight highway I think. Though it still have all of the smaller brother’s weakness, namely styling, and lack of reliability and rustproofing.

My late great Uncle Arch always drove British cars, despite being an American and a former Navy Officer. I guess after driving an aircraft carrier during WW2 he’d had enough of big American Iron.

Anyway his business was BL’s to lose, the 1100 turned out to be his last British car. He finally asked his mechanic (whom he had seen many, many times in the previous 4 years) what to replace it with and he wound up with a bright Yellow Honda Civic. He was a Honda guy for the next 30 years.

While reading this I could only think of an episode of the British television series “Fawlty Towers” in which Basil Fawlty (played by John Cleese) thrashes his 1100 with a tree branch and verbally abuses it because it broke down at a most inopportune time.

I flirted with buying one of these. A well-kept example in that pale green common on British cars of this era. By association, it must have been 1983 or 84. I ended up spending the money on a Honda FT500 instead.

Funny, I came dangerously close to buying one of these myself. 1980, I think. It was that remembrance that was the basis of this story. The one that I looked and looked at for a couple of weeks (and test drove twice) was the first British car that I ever was even mildly interested in. But at about 30 mph, started making a loud grinding noise that sounded expensive. I bought a Ford Fiesta and was never happier with a car from that day to this.

Didn’t Matchbox offer one of these in the late 60s? Although I remember a B-L dealership in Fort Wayne back in the early 70s, I do not remember actually seeing any of these. Maybe there were a few out there but they just did not register with me. I can certainly remember that I have not seen one as an adult. Thanks for the informative piece about a forgotten (in the US) car.

The Matchbox was an MG-badged four-door version, with a dog sticking its head out of one of the rear windows. Usually found in a dark green color, but I found this photo of the later variant in blue with “Superfast” wheels …

Two cars earned a reputation for reliability issues here they were affectionately known as Hitlers revenge and Churchhills revenge Fortunately automatic Morris/Austin cars are rare here and these things sold well and survived there are many still in use now a Wolseley 1300 lives nearby a rare auto model biggest problem is finding someone who knows how to pump the suspension up BMC dealers in NZ began selling Honda rust buckets in the 70s and most dropped the Leyland brands after the awful Allegro with its square steering wheel.

As a first year university student, I worked at Mazda dealership in Victoria. The owner, Joe Hoarwood, had need the writing on the wall and switched to Mazda in the early 1970s, after the 1100 (as it was called in Canada) disaster. Even in 1987 we saw a few 1100s come in for Hyrdagas pumpings. There was one old Scots mechanic called “Mac” (of course) who could do it. When he left, I am sure that skill left with him.

I can’t look at original Mini’s or Mini based British cars without thinking of Fawlty Towers. As an American Boy from the Midwest/Great Lakes where I saw NONE of these cars the show and the cars will be forever linked.

Thanks for a fascinating perspective on an iconic car from Britain’s past.

As has already been noted the ADO16* variants consistently topped the sales charts here from their introduction – best seller every year bar one, from 1963 to 1971.

From what I can tell the metamorphosis of the Austin 1300 into the Austin America amounts to some tweaks to the engine for compliance with the differences in emissions laws in the US from the UK, and a name change. Nothing else significant seems to have been changed.

The automatic gearbox was an option on various ADO16s from 1965, and the sump-mounted gearbox is as much of an Issigonis hallmark as the transverse engine – there from day one on all variants of the car. The Hydrolastic suspension – which was clearly less problematic in other markets – was used on all ADO16s as far as I can tell, so that would also have been present in the earlier MG badged US market cars.

I would argue that what makes the Austin America a Turkey, wasn’t so much the innovative engineering – which had made it a hit elsewhere, and wasn’t really new anymore by 1968 – but the incompetence of the company selling it! BMC/Leyland were incapable of recognising the differing demands of global markets, and pitching appropriate products.

I’d recommend the author (and anyone else who’s interested) check out the exhaustive articles on this model, or other British iron of the era over at AR Online.

*ADO16 was BMC’s internal design code for this car, and makes for a good shorthand way of referring to all the myriad badge-engineered names it was sold as.

I tend to agree with you, and it certainly explains why the Morris Marina replaced the America here. The Marina was crude and simple. Not that it did any better here either.

One has to remember a couple of key points: dealers who sold these cars had been selling British sports cars for decades, as well as the MG Magnette, which had the same bones as the MGA.

When the ADO16 first came to the US as the MG 1100, it was obviously a brilliant little box, but I suspect neither dealers or buyers fully appreciated what it was, and were up to dealing with its issues. And when it was rebadged as the America, with a national ad campaign, there just wasn’t the dealer support to properly deal with the problems that came about from the way Americans tend to drive their cars: lots of miles, and as little maintenance as possible. That was a deadly combination.

Funnily enough I was thinking that a re-bodied Morris Minor (in essence what the Marina was) might have done better in the role Leyland wanted the America to fill – the fact that it was a 1940s design didn’t stop them using the Minor’s more robust and rugged mechanicals on the Marina after all…

Perhaps if Leyland had figured out sooner that US economy car buyers needed something simple and rugged, things might have gone differently… then again, if the resulting hypothetical Morris Minor based “Austin America” had been anything like the rotten Marina maybe they’d just have departed the US market even sooner!

I have a soft spot for the Morris Minor. I agree: the Marina was not worthy of the mechanicals it was bequeathed… not sure I’d go as far as calling the Moggie Issigonis’ best design though. That has to be the Mini for me.

“Urgh. The Morris Marina, now there’s a Turkey!”Quote
The Marina was the biggest turkey ever seen in the British Isles. The British motor industry deserved to die for coming up with such a dreadful excuse for a car. This is why, as a true Brit, I feel justified in only buying Japanese now.

The Marina got renamed at some point being called the Morris Ital and like previous BMC cars had an eastern after life The factory was bought up and shipped to China so by the time they bought MG the Chinese would have been thourouly versed in BL technology.

My best memory of the Morris Marina (excuse me, Austin Marina) was my brother-in-law’s (back then, just sister’s boyfriend) car. I keep threatening to find another one to get for him. And of course I’ve sent him every Top Gear file on YouTube regarding the car. He still grits his teeth at the thought of it. The prime memory was about three years in when the shift lever came out of the floor while going down the highway.

BL also seemed curiously ambivalent about the U.S. market — Lord Stokes told the press a few years later that he didn’t want the company to become too dependent on American sales, for whatever reason.

I suppose at the time they had other fish to fry. BMC to BL, of course, was more than a name change, although BL inevitably inherited many of BMC’s problems. In terms of scope, if not volume, the BMC-Leyland merger was comparable to what might have happened if GM and Ford had merged in the early nineties: trying to rationalize a vast array of formerly competitive brands, many of them badge-engineered variations. Of course, if they’d been able to bolster their U.S. sales, BL would have had more of an outlet for their products, and they might have avoided some of the issues of overcapacity that became such a sticking point in the mid-seventies.

These are very rare around here. Most survivors have had their 1275cc engines harvested to be swapped into the more popular Minis. Oddly I think they were only sold as a two door were as the 1100 could be had with four doors.

its funny the 1100 was a lemon in america a great susses everywhere eles esp japan in 13 00vanden plas guise were even up to the early 2000,s the were selling up to the usa equivelant of 30 thousand dollars ..each yes i know unbelievable..the japs could not get enough of them..the even had specialist couch builders makeing clones based on the nissan micra..vist austin rover online..and youl see the whole developement history of the 1100 and the jap clones,enjoy

I saw one of these in Portland when I was on holiday in July- it was an Orange America with black stripes. I haven’t seen one in the UK that’s not been in a car show in a long time due to our salty moistness.
ADO16’s had a number of problems- they will rot out in 5 years in the snowbelt, yet they were marketed as FWD cars good in snow.
Worse, they had the distributor behind the grille without a radiator in between. This led to the Basil Fawlty-esque starting/stalling issues. There was supposed to be a plastic shield over the HT leads, but this often went missing during services.
The Allegro, for all of its podginess, was a much better car than the 1100/1300 in every area aside from taste and style. It was more reliable, had better designed parts, softer suspension, and was remarkably rust resistant as well as easier to service.

I have had 3 Allegros, all purchased for under £500, and all were great cars. Sure they leaked a bit of water in around the doors, sure there was glue on the headlining from sloppy assembly, and sure the suspension needed to be pumped up on occasion. Yes, alternators failed, and wiring needed to be crimped and cleaned. However, these things are like cockroaches, as they never seem to die. Indeed, Allegros have a higher survival rate than almost any other ’70s mainstream British car.

But alas, styling is everything. The 1100/1300 is loved because it looks good, while the Allegro is unloved because its homely. People remember all of the Allegro’s faults, yet are happy to forget the unreliability of the 1100/1300. Indeed, the media in the ’70s even attached the reputation to the Allegro of the older car, stating that people should avoid it because of rotten subframes. Allegros didn’t have subframes, as they were designed out due to the 1300 fiasco.

Strangely enough though, the last will become first. Due to their horrible attrition rates, 1100/1300’s have disappeared from the consciousness of the under 30s generation of classic car fans, and are only traded amongst those who remember them. However, hipsters also tend to think that the ’70s are retro, love all things purple and puke-green, and have labelled the Allegro, as well as the B210 (Sunny 120Y) as ‘ironic’, the greatest compliment the kids of today can give to a piece of establishment iron.

My brother’s first car was an Allegro… nice blue two door, which rotted under him at a rate of knots.

Sure, some of the ADO16’s reliability woes had been addressed by the time Leyland cranked out it’s massively flawed replacement, but styling isn’t the be all and end all here. The Allegro was the product of a company in terminal decline, and it shows.

The Allegro never topped the sales charts, and not just because of its looks – times had changed and BMC/Leyland had missed the boat. They had a massive sales success with the 1100 and failed to leverage it into continued sales by producing the Allegro as a successor.

Yes. The Allegro is not as bad a car as some folk would have you believe, and by all accounts could have been something special if the 1970s malaise at Leyland hadn’t screwed it up… but (objectively) it wasn’t – for its time – even half the car the ADO16 managed to be in its time (in spite of its many flaws)

As Bryce noted, there are still many of these alive and well here in New Zealand – a hangover from our colonial past. I always hated the looks of the front-wheel drive Austins of the 60s/70s (the 1100/Maxi/1800/2200 etc). And I had plenty of opportunity to grow to hate them while growing up in the late 1970s and 1980s, as my Dad was a mechanic at the local Austin-Rover dealer, so Austins were always around. Thank goodness Dad was a Ford man, so we never owned an 1100 or any other Austin (though Minis are cool!). He’s got loads of old Austin/Rover tools, and probably has the special Hydrolastic tool in his basement or shed. Very interesting write up Jeff, thank you!

now an estate vertion of this car,given a bit of mild custom treatment would be reel cool useing the mg 1100front end on an estate body 1275 cc,mg engine cool paint nerf bars craiger rims red band tyres bucket seats surf boards on the roof very cool..or just as cool a mildly custon allegro estate,[the styling is very ..kinda..sorta.amc pacer] do a bit of work on the front grill modifying the headlamps ie ..peekabo style panel in the long side windows.jack up the rearsuspention for some nice craigers and wide goodyear red bands at the rear slightly smaller at the front ,cool paint and murals,[gold leaf] and there you go to real cool alternative customs..dx

Another instructive chapter in the tragic history of the British car industry.

When I see pictures of the Morris Minor, or the Austin/Morris 1100, or the Rover P5, or the 2.4 litre Jaguar, I feel a sense of loss at the disappearance of what seems like a whole branch of automotive design.

I appreciate the thoughts in this chain about the design and marketing mistakes that contributed to this ‘mass extinction event’. I spent 2 years as a student in Britain in the mid-late 1960’s and my memory tells me that half the cars on the road were Austin/Morris 1100’s. They were practical, stylish, intelligently designed, and clearly well received by the market. They were also driven like hell. I was a frequent hitchhiker at the time, and a lot of these cars were driven much more aggressively on the congested 2 lane highways of the 1960’s than the average North American car at home.

I had a Mini for a summer around the same time in Canada however and it had endless and mysterious problems which the local Dodge dealer (unsurprisingly) found completely baffling.

Whatever the lessons that needed to be learned, it’s clear that the Japanese learned them extremely well. But I’ve never looked at a Toyota or a Honda and felt any emotional pull. I think it has something to do with a lingering sense in British cars of the time as ‘handmade objects’. You can almost visualise a designer shaping a fender, or crafting a tail light, and screwing each piece on with satisfaction. The fact that it was badly screwed on, or that the electrics self-destructed annually, is another story. The word ‘craftsmanship’ comes to mind, not in the sense of quality (God knows…), but in an emotionally different approach to the concept of mass produced objects.

I know I’m hyper-ventilating here a bit – it’s a depressingly short time from the elegance of the P5 to the horrors of BL assembly line hell. I think British car design at its best however tried to create products that had a sense of individuality and human scale to them, in spite of their mass produced reality. This is linked of course to the ideas of the Arts and Crafts movement of the 19th century, spearheaded by William Morris. Perhaps fittingly the Morris Minor (no relation, as far as I know) may be the best example of those ideas in the area of car design.

Using the evolution analogy, it was clearly an approach that didn’t work – at least not at the time, or in the way they tried to do it – and the whole industry paid the cruel, ultimate price. But in their heyday they produced some memorable and beautiful designs.

My grandparents bought a lightly used 1100 3 door, very pale blue, in 1968 as a second car in the Finger Lakes region of New York, just at the time I started to drive. Hated the boxy looks at first glance, and wondered what my grand parents were thinking when they bought this strange little car.

That strong feeling of dislike died pretty quickly as I figured out how to row through the 4 speed manual and drove off through local twisty back roads. It was a brilliant Fall, and I quickly fell in love with this box of a car. The “hydraulic” assisted suspension was perfect for spirited driving through the bluffs and Moraines that made roads so interesting in that region. The bus angled steering wheel was the only thing that I found a bit strange, but did not inhibit good driving.

Little did I know that I was driving a Mini derived (stretched) vehicle. I have extremely fond memories of that old blue box. I did get to drive an original Mini in England about 10 years later, and found it an even more fun car to drive. Alec Issigonis’ design was pure motive genius.

Wish we could have kept that MG 1100. Funny thing is, I bought a new 1974 Civic CVCC that continued my love of small light fun to drive cars! I still love to drive small cars. It’s an ongoing affliction of affection, derived from that early driving experience in the MG.

Love Fawlty, but was not too pleased that he thrashed that car so brutally! But it was so funny.

widely liked in the UK – though probably not as automatics. My Grandfather – a Rolls-Royce engineer no less- bought an 1100 sedan, and then a Countryman (I think that’s what they called the wagon) new – the former four doors and red, the latter 3 and white. He was so upset by the rust (jack through floor inside 2 years of ownership) that he went Fiat (with Ziebart rustproofing) and never looked back. And a tradition – that someone in our family owns a Fiat – has almost been retained since. Actually there are / were glaring holes in the lineage, but what the hey

My uncle had an MG-1100 that I would borrow when my car was in my Dad’s paint & body shop and it was a fun little car that even had A/C that fit from the floor to the bottom of the dash, under the radio. Friends would always want to see the “sideways” engine with the engine fan blowing the hot air on the drivers side tire, plus the electric fan in front for the A/C condenser. I never had problems but after it was about five years old the manual lost second gear, then third, then it went to a MG mechanic for the A/C unit and engine.

Just got done driving a 1969 Austin America that I recently rescued from the the back of an old garage. Had to repair the hydrolastic suspension to correct a very severe lean. Wow, what a learning experience that was. Once that was done I was lucky to identify a mechanic that was very familiar with British cars. Once he did his magic I was down the road and the auto trans shifted just fine. Fortunately, it seems that the previous 2 owners took care of the car well enough since it is complete, original and still operational. I believe that the Ziebart rust protection also has something to do with its survival. I have only had it out a few time since repairing it, but each trip has been fun. Lots of people looking and wondering what kind of car it is.